


The Words We've Both Fallen Under

by Flynne



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, idiots in love and being stupid about it, long overdue confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 19:17:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20533214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flynne/pseuds/Flynne
Summary: Dorian's plan to return home leaves the Inquisitor wondering if he's been asking the man he loves for more than he is willing to give.





	The Words We've Both Fallen Under

When lamplight warms the distant windows of his quarters, signaling Dorian’s presence, Aster is almost surprised. And then he is ashamed, because he knows he shouldn’t be surprised, but it’s hard to be rational when his heart is cracking in two. He ducks his head, aimless gaze losing itself in the shadows gathering at the base of the wall, far below.

He isn’t watching, but he senses the moment the light is abruptly quenched. He stays where he is, though, watching the light from the rising moon behind him line the edges of leaf and stone in silver. The night air is cool, but he acclimated to the mountains a long time ago. Even just with the minimal covering of his antaam-saar, the breeze doesn’t bother him as it brushes over his skin.

“If you think Skyhold needs a few gargoyles, all you need to do is ask for them. You don’t need to sit there until someone takes the hint.” Dorian’s voice is loud and sudden in the silence, but Aster doesn’t startle. He doesn’t turn, either, and he can tell from the slight but definite pause that it throws Dorian a bit.

Dorian doesn’t say so, of course, doesn’t ask why Aster didn’t come to bed. “If you intend to roost here for the night like a bird, do take care to remember you can’t actually fly.” He draws closer, shadow gliding into view at Aster’s side as he comes to a halt a few feet behind him.

Aster takes a slow breath around the ache in his chest. “I owe you an apology.” His voice catches, rough and frayed by the sharp edge of grief. He stops, swallows, tries again, and this time his words are level and calm as they ever are. “I haven’t been listening to you. Today, when you told me you’d be going back to Tevinter, I...I didn’t mean to...I never intended to ask you for more than you could give.” Dorian inhales but Aster keeps going, quiet and unhurried, but unstoppable as a druffalo at the plough. “Whenever you’d offer me an out, a way to walk away from you, I thought it was because you wanted to hear me say that I would stay. But I didn’t hear you. You were trying to tell me, and…”

_Walking away...might be harder, then._

_I am but an adornment upon your arm._

_I don’t know what the future holds. For us, or anything. That’s my honest answer._

Aster feels his face flush with shame but forces himself to continue. “I thought you were seeking reassurance, but you were just trying to be honest with me, and I didn’t listen. I’m sorry. You deserve better.” The sharp edges of shadows blur as his eyes begin to burn. “I am proud of you, you know. For wanting to change things. If anybody can bring hope to Tevinter, it’s you, and I would never want to stand in your way.”

_“Venhedis.”_ Dorian swears bitterly through gritted teeth. “What I ‘deserve’..._Aster_.” His voice wavers and breaks in a way Aster has never heard before, and he startles at the sound of his name. Dorian only rarely says it aloud, and even then it seems to slip out when he is at his most unguarded - drifting on the edge of sleep or lost in passion - but Aster has never heard him sound so desperate. Dorian’s shadow bleeds into his own as he steps forward. He slips his arms around Aster’s waist, presses his brow to the warm skin of his back, grips him as if he’s lost at sea and Aster is the only thing keeping him afloat. “I am a thrice-damned fool.”

“Dorian…?” Aster rests his palm over Dorian’s clasped hands, tries to turn, but Dorian holds him impossibly tighter. He could push, use his greater size and strength to break away, but he doesn’t - he never has, never would force him to do anything.

Dorian shudders. “To think that you believe - that_ I_ made you believe…” He swallows convulsively before his words come spilling out. “There is nothing you could ask of me that I would not willingly give, and the thought of parting from you is enough to tear out my heart.”

Aster has never heard him speak this way. A breathless moment passes before he finds his voice, but even then he fumbles for words. “You - what…?” He tugs gently at the iron grip. “Please, Dorian, let me…” This time he complies, arms falling away as he withdraws. Aster doesn’t let him go far. He turns and climbs off the wall, reaching out to curl his hand around Dorian’s. But now that he’s got hold of him, Aster doesn’t know what to say. Dorian’s words have kindled a small bright spark in his chest, but it’s nearly smothered by uncertainty and the helplessly forlorn look on Dorian’s face. He finally fumbles, “I...think I owe you another apology.”

Dorian makes a pained noise. “So help me, amatus, if you apologize _again_…” He pulls his hand free and takes a step back, folding his arms tightly across his chest and staring at the flagstones between them. “Do you even know what ‘amatus’ means?”

“I’ve...not exactly, but I’ve...inferred.”

“It means ‘beloved’.” Dorian still isn’t looking at him. “I hope you realize I’ve never said that to anyone else.” Aster hesitates, caught between confusion and hope. Dorian lifts his chin and glares at him. “It means I love you, you impossible man!”

“You love me?”

Dorian sighs, shoulders slumping at the tentative tone of his voice. “I do,” he says quietly. “More than I know how to say. Though I seem to have done a poor job of showing it, if you have to ask me that way.”

Aster steps forward, reaches out to cup Dorian’s face in his palm. “You mean it,” he says, starting to smile.

“Of course I do.” Dorian’s reply, meant to be indignant, comes out contrite instead. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. You’re far too good a man to be left in doubt.” He leans into the touch and brings his own hand up to lay against the back of Aster’s. “I truly don’t know what the future holds,” he says, as solemn and earnest as Aster as ever heard him, “but as selfish as it may be of me to say, I do want you in it. I hope you can believe me.”

In spite of his previous uncertainty, Aster finds that he is able to answer without hesitation. “I can.” He traces Dorian’s cheekbone with his thumb. “You love me.”

Dorian smiles softly up at him. “I do.”

“I love you, too.”

“I was rather hoping you did,” Dorian says, valiantly ignoring the tremor in his own voice. He lets Aster gather him in and kisses him desperately, pushing into the broad, warm circle of his arms.

Aster bends to press their brows together when they stop for breath. “I love you,” he says again. His chest is full of light.

“And I you. No matter what happens or where life takes us.” Dorian cradles his face between his palms. “Now take me to bed, amatus, so I can make sure you won’t forget it.”

Aster sweeps him up into his arms, silencing his yelp of surprise with another kiss. Dorian laughs, delighted and unrestrained in the way Aster loves, a way few others have ever seen, the only witness the waxing moon as it soars gracefully higher into the stars.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "We Belong" by Pat Benatar.


End file.
